Disney World
by MoyaKite
Summary: For the Kink Meme! AmeCan: America takes Canada to Disney World. Only rated T because they allude to stuff, sorry.


**Title**: Disney World  
**Author/Artist**: MoyaKite  
**Character(s) or Pairing(s)**: America/Canada  
**Rating**: PG  
**Warnings**: Discrete mentions of possible sex, a couple of chaste kisses, America is a total sap.  
**Summary**: Written for the following prompt (although I deviated from it somewhat):

America/Any - His ideal date is at Disneyworld: America and Nation A's first date is coming up, so he picks the location. Nation A thinks it's going to be somewhere romantic and beautiful. It turns out to be Disney World. Still, America manages to make the date worthwhile.

* * *

"Canada, today is going to be the greatest date that we've EVER gone on!" America grinned. Canada felt a little skeptical, but managed a smile. "I've got all the tickets and Fast Passes and everything all worked out! I know that it's, like, the middle of winter. So we're not going to go to any of the water parks or anything. But we can definitely go to those in the spring or summer, okay? So don't worry about never getting to experience the awesomeness of a Disney water park!"

Canada nodded, settling into his seat and adjusting his seatbelt as America sped up.

"Disney sounds like a pretty big place," Canada said, trying to work up some of the enthusiasm America had.

"Oh, it's huge," America said, clearly proud. "They learned a thing or two from building Disneyland, you know. They kept it all top secret, so other people didn't buy up all the surrounding land until they had enough room to really make something incredible. You're going to love it, Canada!"

"I'm sure I will," Canada said, smiling a little. America was bouncing in his seat; Canada knew that look in his eyes from every Christmas Eve, when America would be too excited to sleep and would invariably wake Canada up with his constant shifting. Canada eyed the piece of paper with the heading _America's Agenda_scrawled in America's best cursive. "Do I get to know this master plan of yours, eh?"

"Nope!" America said, quickly grabbing the piece of paper on the dashboard and stuffing it into his jacket. "Nuh uh. No way, Canada. Oh, I guess I should call you Mattie while we're at the park, huh?"

Canada rolled his eyes. "And then I can call you Alfie."

"Okay, okay," America said, wincing. "You win. Matthew it is."

"And then what should I call you?" Canada asked. America's grin came back at full strength, and he revved the engine.

"Just call me the hero!"

* * *

America stood and watched, enraptured, as the parade went by.

"Did you see that, Mattie?" America shouted, eagerly waving at the nearest float. "She waved back at me! She looked me right in the eye and waved back at me! Isn't that the coolest thing ever?"

Canada tried not to roll his eyes again. For being the middle of winter, it was rather warm, and he'd forgotten his sunscreen. America caught his expression and stopped waving his arms around.

"You okay?" America asked, leaning closer. "I know that crowds can be a little overwhelming for you sometimes, so I tried to pick a day without too many crowds." It was hard to be annoyed when America looked so concerned. Canada opened his mouth to speak, and America's eyes lit up. "I've got it!" America said, grabbing Canada's hand and dragging him through the crowd. Canada glanced over his shoulder to see the last float of the parade turning the corner as America dragged him into a shop at the end of the street, following the parade route the whole way. Canada only just got a glimpse of the sign before America swung the door open: Plaza Ice Cream Parlor.

"Mr. Jones!" shouted the teenager behind the counter. Canada was almost startled by the way the girl beamed at America. "It's a pleasure to see you again, sir! What can I help you with today?"

"I'm buying the love of my life some ice cream!" America said, wrapping his arm around Canada to prevent his escape. Canada blushed to the roots of his hair and broke all eye contact with the people in the store, willing himself to disappear. But he didn't have that comfort when America was right there; no one could miss him underneath America's arm.

"What a lucky fella!" the girl chirped. "What's your pleasure, sir?"

"Um," Canada began, then removed his glasses to clean them in an attempt to calm himself down. His voice was oddly high-pitched as he continued. "I—I don't know. What do you have?"

"Depends," the girl said. "Do you want a cone, a float, or a sundae?"

"Cone?" Canada mumbled, still using the pocket of his hoodie to wipe off his immaculately clean glasses.

"Then we have strawberry, dulce de leche, rainbow sherbet, mint chocolate chip, chocolate, vanilla, and cookie swirl!"

"Um," Canada stammered, trying to decide. "Th-they all sound good, eh," he said, putting his glasses back on as he finally got control of his breathing. America was going to kill him with these public displays of affection. "What do you think?" Canada asked, turning around to look at America, and America laughed, giving Canada's shoulder a quick squeeze.

"I think that you should get them all," America said, puffing out his chest. "My treat!"

"All of them?" Canada repeated, dumbfounded. "But—but—"

"A seven scoop sundae, Mr. Jones?" the girl behind the counter asked. "I can make one special for you."

"With lots of whipped cream on the side, please, Rosie," America grinned. "You're awesome, y'know that?"

Canada looked up in time to catch Rosie's blush.

"You tell that to everyone, Mr. Jones," Rosie smiled, getting out the scoop. "I'll bring it to your table. I think you can still catch the tail end of the parade if you sit outside now; I'll put the ice cream on your tab."

"Thanks, Rosie!" America said, waving at her as he steered Canada outside. "And I only tell awesome people that they're awesome."

Once outside, America pulled out a chair for Canada. The last float was indeed passing by; instead of examining it, Canada watched America grin and wave at it. America's face seemed to glow in the sunlight, and his hair looked soft with its golden sheen. Rosie came outside promptly, setting the bowl down without disturbing America; Canada smiled at her in thanks, and she gave him a thumbs up. The float passed, and America looked around, apparently startled by the sudden appearance of ice cream.

"We'll need to eat a proper breakfast after this, eh," Canada said, surveying the ice cream before him. America nodded, twirling a spoon around.

"I want to go to the Hall of Presidents first," America said, not quite meeting Canada's eyes. "I— Well, it's kind of a tradition. I always go there first, right after the parade."

Canada hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"But this is going to melt," Canada said, taking a bite of dulce de leche and savoring it. He swallowed and grinned. "So hurry up, _Mr. Jones_."

* * *

America blew his nose, looking more teary-eyed than Canada had expected as they left the presidents behind them.

"I miss them," America admitted, slouching as they made their way toward the Liberty Tree Tavern, which he'd recommended by pointing to its description on the map: _American food_. Canada took America's hand and squeezed it. "You know, they weren't all perfect, but most of them really meant well, I think."

Canada swallowed to ease the lump in his own throat—America could be sentimental, but Canada knew that losing a leader was hard even a century later.

"It looks like it's just opening," Canada said, changing the subject. "Let's get you some fine, American cuisine."

America cracked a grin at the last part.

"No one ever expects you to be snarky, Matthew," America said, slumping sideways to rest his head against Canada's shoulder. "You're the best. And I'm totally going to make you try the Tavern Fried Cheese."

* * *

Having survived the greasiest breakfast he'd had to endure since England was still cooking for him, Canada staggered out into the daylight. America was back to his usual self, which meant that he had one arm firmly wrapped around Canada's shoulders.

"You have got to go with me into the Haunted Mansion," America said. "It's almost the scariest place in the entire park! Oh, I'm getting the chills just _thinking_about it."

"We don't have to go if you're too afraid," Canada pointed out, but America was already leading them up the hill. A mansion loomed at the top.

America shook his head furiously. "You've got to," America insisted. "It's so cool, Matthew! And it's so scary that you won't even know what to do with yourself."

Canada rolled his eyes, and America shoved Canada's shoulder with a pout.

"I mean it," he said. "Come on. You wouldn't make me go in all by myself, would you?"

"Of course not," Canada sighed, then smiled. "Race you to the top?"

"There's no way you're going to beat me!" America grinned, and they were off.

Canada ducked and wove through the crowd, gaining an immediate advantage over America, who couldn't charge forward in a straight line like he usually did. Canada doubled over laughing when he caught sight of America fifty feet behind him, racing after a balloon that a little girl had let slip, but managed to keep running. From the top of the hill, he watched America pop the arm back on a plastic Mickey figurine to soothe a crying boy, then offer what Canada guessed to be a Fast Pass to a teenager with a cast and a sour look on his face. By the time America got to the top of the hill, Canada had composed himself.

"You shouldn't keep your date waiting," Canada said, trying not to grin. America missed his expression, and his brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry," America sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned forward to rest against the railing that overlooked the lake. "It's just that this is supposed to be the happiest place on earth, you know?"

Canada patted America on the shoulder and smiled as America looked up.

"Well, come on, hero," Canada said, kissing America briefly on the cheek. "Your next adventure awaits."

* * *

America's grip on Canada's arm was like a vise—Canada was losing all sensation in his fingertips.

"We're sinking!" America hissed, pointing up at the portraits that grew longer and longer. "Isn't it the scariest thing? _It's the scariest thing, isn't it?!_"

"It'll be all right—" Canada began, but then America shrieked.

"Do you see that?" America said, pointing his trembling finger at a portrait of a woman in black—as the picture got longer, it revealed he seat to be the tombstone of her murdered husband. "She killed her husband! This is some seriously scary stuff, Mattie!"

Canada fought the smile that tugged at his lips as he looked America in the eye.

"I'll protect you," Canada said, reaching over to pat America on the shoulder with his functional arm. America still had a fierce grip on the other one.

"You won't let go of my hand, right?" America demanded. "If you let go, and a ghost steals me away, it is _so_your fault."

"I won't let go," Canada said, biting back a chuckle at America's wide-eyed terror. So suddenly that America actually jumped, a deep-voiced announced spoke, and thunder and fake lightning crashed above them. America pointed straight up at the dangling figure of a corpse and screamed as the lights went out.

"It's you holding my hand, right?" America said, burying his face in Canada's shoulder. "Ghosts aren't warm, right?"

"They're also incorporeal," Canada pointed out. America breathed a little sigh of relief and pressed right against Canada. Finally, after some cheesy lines and maniacal laughter, the lights began to return, but America stayed huddled at Canada's side.

"I don't like his laugh," America mumbled.

Canada spotted a light that signaled the way forward and tried to move, but America was rooted to the spot.

"Didn't you hear him?" America said. "'The real chills come later.' That's scary, Mattie!"

"I thought heroes had to be brave and face the things that scared them?" Canada said, smirking a little as America pouted, eyes still tightly shut. "And the lights are back on, silly."

"That's what England always told us, huh?" America said, cracking one eye open to peer around the quickly emptying room. "Bravery isn't about not being afraid. It's about being afraid and getting through it anyway."

"That's right," Canada said, patting America's shoulder again and wishing he had feeling in his hands. "Now, unless you want to be trapped in here all alone, I think it's time we move forward."

America yelped and lunged for the door, nearly dragging Canada behind him.

"Thank God that you're so smart, Mattie!" he said, racing down the hall of portraits. His grip on Canada's arm had been released in favor of taking his hand. Canada smiled a little as America's hand trembled in his, then rubbed a little circle into the back of America's wrist to calm him down. "These portraits are just terrifying!" America cried, staring steadfastly at the floor as they ran. "Why won't they just stay still?"

"Because they're looking for the thousandth ghost, Mr. Jones," Canada said, using his spookiest voice. America wailed and Canada gave his most diabolical laugh.

"I hate you!" America shouted. "Why won't the hallway _end_?!"

* * *

America was in a catatonic state at the end of the ride. He'd gotten as far as the exit before curling into a ball. Canada nudged America's shoulder, laughing nervously.

"Come on, Alfie," Canada chided, nervousness welling up in the pit of his stomach. "It couldn't possibly have been that scary, eh?"

America didn't respond. Canada pressed his palms against his eyelids and sighed heavily. If he wasn't objecting to being called Alfie, it really was that bad. It was almost as bad as the night America had convinced Canada to let him watch _The Ring_.

"Come on," Canada pleaded, tugging on America's hoodie. He bit his lip a bit guiltily. "Look, I didn't mean to make it scarier, eh?" Canada glanced around to confirm that no one was watching them and wrapped an arm around America's shoulder. "It's okay, Alfred. Let's keep going! This is your big chance to show me Disney World, remember?"

"Oh, does Mr. Jones need an escort again?" a man's voice asked. Canada stiffened, immediately withdrawing his arm as he turned to look at the man. He was really just a teenager with some acne and a very deep voice.

"Sam?" America whispered, tilting his head to one side without looking up. Sam laughed.

"That's right, Mr. Jones. Who's your, uh, friend?"

"I'm Matthew Williams," Canada said. "What was that about an escort?"

"Oh, Mr. Jones always needs an escort to Small World after any of the scary attractions," Sam said, shrugging. "Unless you think you could get him there?"

"...Small World?" Canada repeated, his mouth going dry. Sam nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Yep, that's the one," Sam said. "Can I trust you to get him there, then, Mr. Williams?"

Canada looked back and forth between the catatonic Alfred and Sam. Finally, painstakingly, he nodded. He'd only heard of It's A Small World; it couldn't be as bad as he'd been told, eh?

* * *

Canada found himself rocking back and forth, humming the tune that had plagued him through the line and the far-too-long ride. It was a torture chamber! All those dolls singing and singing, and Canada couldn't even block out the non-English languages, because, as a nation, he already knew them all! The lyrics didn't even quite match—it was just different enough that there was no blocking it out, no getting used to it, no ignoring it.

"Sekai wa semai. Sekai wa onaji. Sekai wa marui. Tada hitotsu..." Canada mumbled, when suddenly he found himself being lifted into the air. Blinking up into the daylight, Canada met America's eyes; he looked sheepish.

"I'm sorry, Canada," he said, so quietly that no one else could hear him. "I didn't mean to make you ride that, too. All of the other nations hate it."

"Then why do you like it?" Canada asked, and America blushed.

"It's comforting," America said. "It's a familiar ride, one that's been around for so many years that I've lost count, and the song just stays with you. And they sing it in a bunch of languages, which is even more comforting."

"Why?"

"Well—there are all sorts of people in both of our countries, right?" America said, adjusting his grip on Canada. Canada suddenly panicked as he realized that America was still carrying him—bridal style, no less!—in front of hundreds of people. Before Canada could interrupt to get America to put him down, though, America continued. "Well, I like remembering that. I like remembering that Americans don't always speak English, and I like thinking that Canada is like that, too. It's something we have in common."

Canada froze for a moment, staring at America, who looked determinedly at the path ahead of them, a blush tinging freckled cheeks pink. Canada found himself blushing, too.

"Can you put me down, you silly goose?" Canada finally managed, knowing that America liked terms of endearment—the more ridiculous, the better—and America set him down gently, then took his hand.

"I think that you'll like this carousel, Matthew," America said, using his normal, exuberant voice. Canada grinned.

"As long as we ride a roller coaster next," Canada replied.

* * *

"Wasn't Space Mountain the best ride ever?" America said, even though his hand was still shaking in Canada's. "Especially when you go whoosh through the dark like that—it's my favorite ride in the whole park!"

"You screamed like a little girl!" Canada laughed. America pouted.

"So?" he asked, turning a little pink. "It's more fun when you scream."

"Of course it is," Canada said, grinning as America led him onward. "Where to?"

"Up next is Epcot!" America said, checking his watch. "I was kind of thinking of taking you to the Animal Kingdom and everything, but it's a little later than I thought it'd be."

"Epcot?" Canada repeated. He'd heard America talk about Disney World before, but he'd always tuned him out, so he only remembered a little about the place. "There aren't any rides there, eh?"

"Well, no," America said, hesitating slightly and not meeting Canada's eyes. Canada raised his eyebrows. America was many things, but evasive was seldom on the list. "I just thought that you'd like it more than the rides."

"All right," Canada said. "Lead the way!"

"There are some rides," America added, draping his arm across Canada's shoulders again. "Just—they're not like these rides. The only ride-ride is Maelstrom, at the Norway Pavilion. And that one's scary."

"No more scary rides," Canada said sharply, then, noticing America's wince, he amended. "Let's just explore the pavilions, eh?"

America nodded, and Canada noticed that they were again passing the Plaza Ice Cream Parlor. America caught his gaze and beamed.

"After ice cream, then," America said, laughing. "And don't you even think about taking out your wallet. I'm treating you to the best sundae money can buy!"

* * *

After disembarking the monorail, America locked his left arm around Canada's shoulders, anchoring himself to Canada's right side. America then firmly steered Canada to the left, past what sounded like an arcade full of kids.

"The pavilions are that way!" America said loudly, pointing to the left fork in the path ahead and blocking Canada's view to the right. "There's a lot of fun stuff in there," America said, pointing to the source of the commotion. He looked a little regretful. "But it's mostly for kids." Canada knew immediately that America spent most of his time at Epcot in there; America was great with kids.

"We could go—" Canada began, but America kissed his cheek and his voice caught in his throat as he blushed. America's lips were against his ear as he spoke.

"Thanks," America said softly. "But today's our big date. I want to take you to see stuff that you'll really like. I come here all the time, after all."

Canada was hard-pressed to argue the point; they were already approaching the first pavilion. At first glance, it looked almost like a step pyramid.

"Mexico!" America said, gesturing with his free arm. "Are you hungry? There's a restaurant inside if you wanna grab some food."

Canada was still too full of ice cream to even consider eating any actual food.

"I'll hold out for dinner," Canada said. America nodded, and his grip on Canada's shoulders began to ease. "Will we be coming back here?"

America zipped his lips with his free hand, grinning, and Canada couldn't help but smile. America's grin was infectious.

"All right, all right, I get it," Canada said. "Something top secret."

"The classification level is so high that even the president doesn't have access to it," America said in feigned seriousness, fighting down his grin. "The Freedom of Information Act doesn't even crack the first level of security."

Canada leaned his head against America's shoulder and smiled.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to keep leading the way, then!" Canada said. America pressed a kiss into Canada's hair, and Canada suddenly remembered that they were in public. He pulled away from America, heat rising in his cheeks.

"Just leave it to the hero!" America said brightly, striding forward. A mischievous glint in his eye gave Canada just enough warning that he was able to hide his face in embarrassment before America continued. "Stand aside!" America shouted, waving his free arm in a dramatic, commanding way that made Canada squirm. "I'm escorting the love of my life to Norway!"

"I'm sure that Norway would be pleased to hear that," Canada muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes and pretending that the blush that went all the way to the roots of his hair was just a sunburn. "Who else are you taking me to see?"

America laughed his loudest, kissing the side of Canada's head.

"Ah, now that's the secret, isn't it?"

Canada snuck a peek at the upcoming pavilion, lowering his hands just enough to peek over them. Norway was represented as a cluster of old-looking, wooden buildings.

"There's a troll ride in there," America whispered to Canada. "I had nightmares for weeks after I went on it for the first time."

Troll figures lined the shop, as well, and Canada guessed that even the sight of the trolls might freak America out. Indeed, America seemed to be squirming already—although, once Canada got a better look at him, it seemed like America was squirming with excitement, not terror.

"What're you so excited about, eh?" Canada asked, and America looked evasive again.

"Oh, nothing," America said. "It's just nice to be on a date with you, is all."

"Right," Canada said. "You do know that heroes don't lie, eh?"

"You sound more Canadian when you're suspicious of me, Matthew!" America laughed, clapping Canada on the back. Canada caught him looking at his watch and frowning for the barest instant before the grin reappeared. "Since you don't look interested in Norway, how's about a trip to China?"

Without another word, America dragged Canada forward, toward another cluster of buildings; these were shaped with China in mind, certainly, although not any part of China that Canada had visited. The large, elaborate gate felt familiar, though.

"Another of Yao's vacation homes?" Canada asked, and America laughed.

"Not this one," America said. "Although he's come to see it before, I think. Not with me, though."

"I see," Canada said, nodding to himself. "So you don't take everyone here?"

"Oh, I've tried to get the others to come here," America sighed, shaking his head, "but they're just not interested. I don't get it. It's got tons of fun things to do, and there's plenty to explore, and there are lots of different place to eat..."

Canada suddenly felt guilty that he'd been putting off their Disney date for the better part of three decades—America had first invited him when Epcot had opened in 1982.

America sighed again, then smiled, squeezing Canada's arm.

"I'm glad that you're here, Matthew," he said, looking right at Canada. "I'm really glad that you let me set up this date."

Canada swallowed once and wet his lips.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Canada said. America flashed him a two hundred watt grin and pointed ahead of them.

"Germany!" America announced. "Yes, we do sell wurst."

It was oddly bright and colorful while still remaining subdued; a clock tower stood in the middle of the tiny town, and a fountain gurgled before it. It was peaceful rather than boisterous, and Canada found himself smiling as he looked around.

"So I don't have to worry about Mexico or China, but I should be keeping my eye on Germany," America said, nodding his head in understanding. "I see that you like blondes, Matthew."

Canada elbowed him, trying not to laugh.

"Is that what this is about?" Canada said, trying to effect a haughty tone and knowing he'd failed when America snickered. "Well, my personal affairs are none of your concern."

America cracked a smile and they both cracked up.

"Oh, man," America said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Do you want to see Italy? Italy just insisted on being right next to Germany."

"He would, wouldn't he?" Canada laughed, wiping his eyes and readjusting his glasses. "Sure. I'd love to see Italy."

As they approached the Italy Pavilion, though, Canada noticed America bouncing on his heels in excitement once again.

"What're you so excited about, eh?" Canada asked, peering past the Italy Pavilion and trying to see around America. The next pavilion was unmistakeable. "You want to see the USA Pavilion!" Canada said, pointing at it, and America looked momentarily relieved.

"Oh, you caught me!" America laughed. "Yeah, I guess I kinda do wanna show you around..."

Canada smirked, and America rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"But there's not much to show, really, which is the embarrassing part," America said. "There's just this video that'd bore you to tears. Well, and a little theater, too."

"That's fine," Canada said. "You can just show me the buildings."

America nodded, then tipped his head to rest it against Canada's.

"You're the best," he said, then kissed Canada on the cheek and stood upright again, leading Canada toward the USA Pavilion. "You know that the show is a half hour long and talks all about America?"

"I don't doubt it," Canada said, rolling his eyes again. "You do love to talk about yourself."

America laughed.

"Darn tootin'!" he said, then laughed harder. "Oh, I haven't gotten to say that in years!"

"You sound like an old man," Canada chuckled, then effected a thick, Southern accent. "Dagnabbit! Git offa mah lawn, ya gosh-derned kids!"

"That's not what we sound like!" America pouted.

"And now you're using the royal we?" Canada said, nudging America's side.

"Oh, most certainly," America said, feigning a British accent. "Shall we proceed to the United Kingdom, my dear fellow?"

"You're just absurd," Canada laughed. "But sure. We can come back to these exhibits a bit later, right?"

"After the dinner reservations," America said, nodding, then clapped his free hand over his mouth. "Shoot!" he said, his voice muffled. "I wasn't going to blab about that!"

"Reservations?" Canada pressed, but America was already miming locking his lips and throwing away the key. Canada glanced at his own watch and was startled to find that it was somehow already past six o'clock in the evening. He'd forgotten that it got dark later in the evening closer to the equator at this time of year. "What time are the reservations for?"

"Seven," America admitted, scuffing his shoes against the ground. "I'm sorry to rush you."

"Well, we should get ready, then, eh?" Canada said. "Where is it?"

"That's the big surprise, isn't it?" America said, trying to smile. "Could you cover your eyes until we get there? I'll make sure that no one runs into you or anything."

"Okay," Canada said, and America's concern immediately lifted.

"No peeking, okay?" America said, grabbing Canada's hands and looking right at him. "You have to promise."

"I promise," Canada said.

"We're going to go past a bunch of other countries, but don't be tempted to peek!" America insisted, squeezing Canada's hands. "I'll take you back to see all of them some other time if we run out of time today."

Canada closed his eyes obligingly, then jumped a little as America covered them up.

"You don't trust me?" Canada asked, smirking a little. America chuckled.

"You're the one who would unwrap our Christmas presents and switch them around so that you got the toys you wanted," America pointed out. Canada laughed.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Canada asked. "You would've done the same if you could've wrapped them up again like I could."

"Nuh uh," America huffed. "The surprise is better than the present. Well. I hope that the surprise isn't better than this present, but still. Come on."

Canada let America lead him. He heard people speaking in several different languages as they went, but the park seemed to be getting more crowded, and soon Canada couldn't pick the languages out of the crowd. Finally, after what felt like ages of walking, America came to a stop and pulled his hands away from Canada's eyes.

"Surprise!" America said, brandishing both arms. Canada blinked in the sudden light and found himself face to face with—a mish mash of styles that seemed somehow familiar to him. Then he realized what it was. America's interpretation of Canada.

"There's a Canada Pavilion?" Canada asked, his voice smaller than he'd expected. He thought back again to America's countless invitations to come see Disney World and felt a lump grow in his throat. "Oh, America—"

"Nope!" America said, shaking his head. "The attraction is actually called O Canada!"

"What?" Canada asked, starting to look around for it but getting caught on America's exuberant expression.

"An eighteen minute, three hundred sixty degree movie about why Canada is amazing!" America said, giving Canada a thumbs up. "They cut out about an hour of the script that I wrote for them, but I made sure that they'd at least keep the pavilion around."

"That's..." Canada trailed off, speechless. "You are such a sap!" Canada said, blushing. "This is where we're eating dinner?"

"The reservations are actually for 7:30!" America grinned. "So we'll have just enough time to explore, watch the presentation, and eat before—" America snapped his mouth shut, and Canada arched an eyebrow at him. "No way am I finishing that sentence!" America said. "Come on! It's time to explore!"

America dragged Canada all around the pavilion, showing him the gift shop and every aspect of every building in the area so quickly that it all became a jumbled blur in Canada's mind. The two of them cracked up during the movie on Canada when they mentioned hockey, and, so quickly that it was hard for Canada to believe that an hour had passed, they found themselves at the steakhouse. Canada got to order 'Canadian' food, and America ordered them wine. They talked over dinner, but America's mind seemed to be elsewhere, and he kept glancing at his watch. Finally, America threw enough cash down on the table to cover the meal and a generous tip.

"It's time!" America whispered, grabbing Canada by the elbow. "Come on. They're only doing this for me because I called in like eight favors."

Canada followed America past several Staff Only barriers all the way up to the roof. Music seemed to be playing, and it was getting to be cooler out, which suited Canada.

"We've got ten more minutes of listening to the music," America said.

"And then?" Canada said. America lay down on a blanket that had been stretched out on the roof. Beaming, he pointed up at the sky.

"Fireworks," America said, grinning wider than he had all day. "Come here," he said, holding his arms out to Canada. Canada looked around, but they were alone. "I know that you get embarrassed when I kiss you and stuff in public," America said. "So I thought this would be better."

Canada smiled, then sat on the blanket. America curled around him, still lying down.

"What do you think?" America asked, peering up at Canada with hopeful eyes. "Was this our best date ever?"

Canada reached down and ruffled America's hair.

"That week at Niagra Falls was awfully nice," Canada said, smirking a little, and America laughed again.

"That doesn't count as a date," America said. "We never left the hotel room!"

"Then sure," Canada said, leaning down to kiss America. "This is our best date yet."

They hardly noticed when the fireworks started.


End file.
